Ungodly Hours of the Morning
by Night Monkey
Summary: The Scarecrow breaks into Poison Ivy’s greenhouse, looking for new ingredients to use in his fear toxin. It does not go over well, especially once Ivy shows just how frightening a woman can be.


I did promise one-shots, and here's one for you. This fic isn't related to _Nerd_, but it does feature two of the characters. It's not what I usually write, but the idea stuck in my head and refused to be evicted (Damn plot bunnies). Slightly more perverted than my usual fare. First ever slightly romantic story.

Summary: The Scarecrow breaks into Ivy's greenhouse, looking for new ingredients to use in his fear toxin. It does not go over well, especially once Ivy turns on the charm.

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Pamela Isley was awoken at an ungodly hour to the constant chirp of an alarm. The irritating, monotonous wail was too muted to belong to any of the smoke detectors in the house. That meant it must have been the warning system she had installed in her greenhouse, designed to shriek like a bereaved widow if anyone tried smashing a window or prying open the door. Unless some stupid and relatively large animal had blundered into the greenhouse and tripped the alarm, it signaled that she had an unwelcome guest.

Not many people bothered Poison Ivy. Her personality, described as hostile by most and epically bitchy by those who lacked useful adjectives, kept most souls away. If, for some reason her hostility couldn't do it, the threat of man-eating plants normally did the job. The list of people who were unperturbed by either the modified plants or the attitude was paltry. Of those few individuals, the number that would intrude into her greenhouse, her sanctuary, without permission was exactly two. Batman and Robin.

"Can't he pull his hero crap at a decent hour?" Ivy moaned. The squawking alarm suggested that no, he couldn't. Sighing, Ivy got out of bed and went looking for the bastard stupid enough to wake her up this early.

As soon as she popped her head out into the night air, she could see someone had turned on the lights in the greenhouse. That scratched any possibility a confused or hungry critter had butted its way in. When she finally got out to the greenhouse, she noticed a wide pane of glass had been shattered. It was an entirely amateur job. Batman wouldn't just go barging in like a teenage vandal. He'd check for any defense systems and defuse them, and he certainly wouldn't accidentally cut himself on the jagged hole he'd created. Blood from someone almost assuredly not the masked vigilante had dotted the glass and ground.

Ivy tried to think of anyone who might have been stupid enough to vandalize her property. A name did come to mind: the Joker. It was entirely plausible. The jealous bastard had come to do her harm for taking in Harley last weekend. Ivy's blood boiled. If that pale psychopath had damaged any of her plants, she was going to castrate him with a pair of garden shears.

Ivy stepped into the greenhouse and sought out the security panel that would disable the painful alarm. After the terrible soundtrack stopped, she looked for the intruder. He wasn't hard to find. With just a cursory look around the greenhouse, she spied a man she recognized suspended several feet in the air by various vines. Vines had constricted around his body like serpents, and a particularly thick growth had made a noose around his neck.

"It's okay, darlings, put him down." Ivy said calmly. She stepped towards the tentacle-like plants, and they reacted immediately. The vines loosened their hold and dropped their pathetic victim at Ivy's feet.

The body didn't move, and Ivy wasn't surprised. That vine had been wrapped tightly enough to cut off all airflow. If it had been allowed to squeeze for more than a minute, chances of survival were nearly zero.

Poison Ivy crouched down next to the inert body and pulled the frightful burlap mask from its face. "Crane, what did you think you were doing?"

To her surprise, the Scarecrow shuddered and opened his eyes. "Am I dead?"

"Almost. Were you entirely out of your mind? Why'd you break into my greenhouse? When did you get stupid?"

"Curiosity killed the crane." He muttered. Without much effect, he tried to lift his right arm.

"I'm going to kill the crane if you don't explain yourself! How did you even find me? It isn't like I've got my name and address in the telephone book," Ivy said.

With more luck this time, Crane managed to get his arm up and flop it over onto his chest. He struggled to get his hand to his throat. Once it was there, he began to massage his neck. After the vine had nearly crushed his windpipe and vocal cords, talking was a painful exercise.

"Hurts, huh? Good, that'll teach you to come barging uninvited onto my property. If you think you're going to get any pity from me, you've got another thing coming." Ivy said coldly.

"I only intended to look. At first." The Scarecrow finally said.

"Look at what, exactly? My plants, my lab, _me__,__ fresh from the shower_? If it was the last one, I'm going to stab your eyes out with a rake."

The Scarecrow blushed. The man could poison a bus loaded with school children, unleash fear toxin into a crowded room and laugh at the chaos, but accuse him of being a pervert and he turned into a radish. If Ivy wasn't so angry at the intrusion, the damage to the glass, and her lack of beauty rest, she would have found it cute.

"Your plants, I assure you."

"Who told you where to find me?"

"Harley Quinn. I bribed her."

Ivy's eyes narrowed. "That little airhead, after all I do for her. How much did it take?"

"A bag of caramel popcorn, some Fun Dip, and five dollars."

"I'm going to pull her pigtails off! I practically run a battered-clown shelter exclusively for her, and she sells me out to _you_ for candy and popcorn." Ivy growled.

"Yes, I was amazed at the price, too." The Scarecrow quipped.

"Shut up or that rake is going down your throat," Poison Ivy said.

Not wanting any gardening tools shoved into him, Crane shut his trap. He was grateful to be alive, and didn't want to egg Ivy into deciding she liked him better with vines squeezing him to death. Total cooperation was the best policy at the moment.

"Why did you want to see my plants? You're too busy running around in a mask, scaring people, to appreciate the beauty or importance of anything I'm growing here. Oh, don't tell me. You've finally found someone to be Mrs. Scarecrow and decided to steal her a bouquet since you haven't got the money to go to a florist." Ivy said.

"Absolutely not! For your information, my love life is as dead as Woodrow Wilson and my research supersedes any mindless tinkering you might be undertaking. Shit, did I say that first part aloud?"

Ivy huffed in annoyance. Men, always thinking their jobs were more important than a woman's. It wasn't like Crane ran the country or mediated peace treaties. He ran around dressed in a Halloween costume, spraying people in the face with poison. It was of no benefit to society as far as Isley could tell.

"Then why'd you leave your fearsome pedestal and come down here to my lowly greenhouse? Feel like mixing with the commoners tonight, mighty Scarecrow?"

"I needed hallucinogenic plants. Revealing more might compromise my data." Crane said.

"You came scurrying like a rat in the middle of the night to steal from me? Why not just look for some drug-pusher and buy mushrooms or marijuana like a normal man?" Ivy asked.

"Because that product is rubbish! Besides, I'm not looking to make my victims hungry or to induce a pleasant high. I deal in fear, and fear alone."

"Fear, right. I don't know if anyone ever told you this, but without your mask, you're not scary. Even with it on, I don't see anyone over the age of seven being frightened by it. Maybe if you dressed up like someone who wasn't in _The Wizard of Oz_." Poison Ivy suggested.

"But I am scary! I am the Master of Fear and the Lord of Despair! People tremble before me in witless terror."

"You're just another man in denial. A woman tells you something, and you refuse to see the truth. Maybe if I was a man, like Dent or the Joker, you'd believe me." Ivy said.

"It doesn't matter if you're a man, woman, transvestite, I don't care! I don't believe you because you're misinformed. People do fear me; they scream, and cry, and roll around on the ground. They're terrified and I've got the news footage to prove it."

"Your 'fear toxin' might be able to trick peoples' minds, but if you didn't have it, you'd be useless. I, on the other hand, have more than one trick."

Crane felt like banging his head against the floor. All this misery, just for a few lawn clippings. He should have just been satisfied with his old batches of toxin and let it be.

"I am well aware of the fact I am physically unimposing. I am underweight, I slouch, and my feet are too big. I am flawed, deeply and intrinsically. I am the inferior sex and women have every right to spit on me. Are you satisfied, or shall I degrade myself further?" The Scarecrow asked.

"I like a man who knows his place." Ivy purred. "Tell me more about your inequities and imperfections."

The Scarecrow didn't like where this was going. He was no fan of humiliation, having suffered enough of it for several lifetimes. As far as he was concerned, the less Ivy knew about him, the better off he'd be.

"Don't be a stick in the mud, Doctor Crane." Ivy said. She trailed a finger from his nose, down over his lips, and along his chin. Crane looked ready to faint.

"I, I am not comfortable with this situation." He stuttered.

"Why not? Don't like when a lady makes the first move?"

"It's the move-making I don't like! Please, can't you just beat me until you're satisfied? That's normally how people express their dislike of me."

"But girls don't play rough, do they? They need to use their feminine wiles and soft touches."

"I'm not even remotely sexist, please stop touching me!"

Enough was enough! Ivy's finger had traced a line down to the center of his chest, and was currently residing above his heart. Doubtlessly, she could feel the panicked contractions of the organ. The Scarecrow was getting the hell out of there before that damned finger slid any lower even if he had to retreat in total shame.

The Scarecrow pushed himself backward, toward the broken pane of glass. Ivy pounced on him like a cat tired of playing. Despite his shouting and puling, she effectively pinned his hands.

Being molested by Poison Ivy was a dream for many an adolescent boy in Gotham. If a poll was handed out to horny teenagers, a majority of them would name Ivy as their fantasy villain. Crane, however, hadn't been a teenager in many years, and his fantasies tended to feature few bras being slowly unhooked and many people tripping over themselves in terror.

"Stop!"

"But I haven't even started yet."

That finger was migrating again! The Scarecrow had a significant height advantage on Ivy, and he used it. Struggling with desperation, Crane managed to get a hand free. He clenched it into a fist and popped Ivy squarely on the nose. Never mind the ethics of hitting girls. This woman was insane!

Instead of letting go as Crane had hoped, Ivy only laughed and recaptured his hand. "That's it? I've been going up against the big, bad Bat and he doesn't pull his punches."

This was a nightmare; he was home, passed out on his desk, and his mind was concocting evil dreams. That or he had suffered a chemistry mishap and had breathed in his own toxin. There was no way he had been disabled by a woman and was utterly helpless to stop her.

"I'm sorry for breaking and entering. I'll repair the damage, make a donation to Green Peace, anything! Just let me go!"

"Are you afraid of powerful women?"

"I'm afraid of sexual assault! And bats."

To Crane's immense shock, Poison Ivy released him. He was left laying on the ground, his mouth agape and his mind on the verge of meltdown. What in the hell was going on in Ivy's mind?

Ivy stood up and smirked. "I'm pretty scary, huh?"

The Scarecrow's mouth opened and closed without disgorging any sounds. He was now officially confounded.

"I believe I just proved that I'm scarier than you. With just this one little finger I had you begging for mercy. No poison, no gimmicks, just confidence and phalanges." Ivy said.

She had taken his mask, then his dignity, and now she was trying to take his title? Crane was not going to allow it! There was room for one Master of Fear in Gotham, and he held the position.

Shaking off the lingering confusion, the Scarecrow pulled himself off the ground. Now that he was able to physically tower over Ivy, he felt some confidence return. There was a reason men got prejudiced ideas. When you had better than six inches on someone, it made you feel powerful.

"You don't know the first thing about fear. Sexual harassment is not the same thing as utter domination of the mind." Crane said.

Ivy shrugged. "You seemed pretty dominated."

"I was uncomfortable, nothing more. I dislike human contact."

"No kidding."

"I'm leaving."

"There's the door. Well, the hole in the wall you made. Where'd you cut yourself, anyway?"

"My ankle, as I was stepping over. It's hardly a scratch, doesn't warrant stitches or anything."

"Sure you don't want me to take a look? I know a thing or two about medicine." Ivy said.

"I'm quite sure."

"Just a quick little peek, Doctor?"

"I am more than capable."

"And I'm not quite ready to let you go yet."

The Scarecrow swallowed, his saliva suddenly as thick as wet cement. "I'm leaving, anyway."

"Really?"

The same vines that had nearly choked the life from him swarmed in front of the hole, making an impenetrable barrier of green. Ivy took a step toward him, and Crane backed away. This continued until he met the mesh of vines and could retreat no further.

"You came here for plants, right? I'm going to give you all the plants you can handle."

The fear from moments before overtook Crane. Before he could turn away, Ivy pulled the lanky man to her level and changed that fear into something a good deal more…pleasant.

THE END

A Scarecrow/Ivy romance. Never thought I'd write that. Hope you lot enjoyed and hope it wasn't half-baked garbage. If it wasn't your cup of tea, give me a couple of days and I'll write something new and not vaguely romantic.

This has nothing to do with crap, but today, December 8, is the 29th anniversary of John Lennon's death. Just wanted to get that out there, maybe as a bit of a memorial. Go listen to old Beatles songs on Youtube or something...


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